Late from work again? Lately, the workloads been piling up, so hes been coming home late more often than not.
Emily tucked the kids into bed and headed to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. Still no sign of James. Recently, hed been swamped at the office, always dragging in well past supper.
She felt sorry for him, reallytried to shield him from household stress. After all, he was the sole breadwinner. That was the deal theyd struck after marrying: shed handle the home and their future children, while hed provide. One by one, three little ones arrived, each birth filling him with joy. “Lets not stop here,” hed say.
But Emily was exhaustedendless nappies, mashed meals, sleepless nights. She decided it was time to pause on expanding the family.
James stumbled in after midnight, tipsy. When she asked why he was so late, he grinned. “Long day, love. The team needed a quick unwind.”
“My poor hardworking man,” she teased, forcing a smile. “Come on, let me fix you a plate.”
“Dont bother. We grabbed burgersruined my appetite. Ill just head to bed.”
With Mothers Day around the corner, Emily arranged for her mum to watch the kids while she popped to the shopping centre. She wanted to make the day specialjust the two of them, a proper date night. Her mum agreed to take the little ones.
Aside from groceries and gifts, Emily decided to treat herself. Itd been ages since shed bought anything nicetoo guilty dipping into Jamess earnings for clothes, and nowhere to wear them anyway. Her last purchase? A frumpy housecoat. Not exactly date-night material. She browsed a boutique, selected a few dresses, and slipped into a changing room.
As she tried on the second dress, a familiar voice rang out from the next cubicle.
“Mmm, cant wait to get you out of that,” James purred.
A womans giggle followed. “Patience! Go pick something for your wife instead.”
“Why bother? Shes buried in nappies and puree. The kids dont care if shes in pyjamasjust feed them, change them, tidy their toys! Ill buy her a blender. Or a bread makershell love that!”
Emily froze. Heart pounding, she mechanically kept trying dresses, ears straining.
“If she asks where you spent so much,” the woman tittered, “a blender and bread maker dont cost *that* much”
“And why should I justify where I spend *my* money? *I* work. She sits at home wanting for nothing! I give her a household allowancethats *more* than enough.”
The voices faded as they left. Peeking out, Emily saw James at the till with a blonde, kissing her full on the mouth as he paid.
“You alright in there?” A shop assistant tapped her cubicle.
“Fine! Ill take all these,” Emily blurted, shoving the dresses at her.
At home, after her mum left and the kids napped, Emily sat numb. What now? The betrayal stung, but worse was how little he valued her.
She wanted to scream for a divorcebut forced herself to think. *If I leave, hell shack up with that woman, and Ill be stuck with three kids and no income. Child support? Pennies. How do we survive?*
By evening, shed decided. James came home “late from work” againno surprise. “Got your fill earlier, didnt you?” she thought coldly. Every ounce of love for him had drained away. The only dread? Him expecting intimacy. But he didnt even tryprobably already satisfied.
The next day, Emily updated her CV and fired it off to agencies. Days ticked by, checking her inbox obsessively. Finallyan interview at one of the citys firms. The *same* one James worked at. After hesitating, she went.
Two hours later, they offered her a solid roleflexible hours, decent pay. Enough to support herself and the kids once they started nursery.
She floated home. “Mum, James is cheating!” she blurted, grinning.
Her mum gaped. “What? Hes at work all day!”
“*Work*? More like his mistress!” Emily spilled everything.
Her mum sighed. “Whatll you do?”
“Divorce him. AndIve got a job! Once the kids are in nursery, Ill go full-time.”
“Wont stop you. Cheatings unforgivable. Especially how he belittles you. Ill help with the kids.”
“Thanks, Mum,” Emily whispered, hugging her.
On the seventh, James slunk in late again. Emily ignored him. Confused, he muttered, “Late meeting, love”
“Just go to bed,” she cut in.
Next morning, as she fed the kids breakfast, James presented her with a gifta bread maker. “To make life easier, darling!” He leaned in for a kiss. She recoiled.
“Ive got *you* a gift too.”
Baffled, he followed her to the hallwhere two packed suitcases waited.
“Were done. No more sneaking around.”
“Howd you?”
“Changing rooms. Heard you picking gifts for *her*. Keep the bread makershell want it.”
Cornered, James snarled, “Jealous Ive got someone *attractive*? Look at you! Frumpy, stuck in mum-mode, living off *me*! Its *my* moneyIll spend it how I like!”
“Not jealous,” Emily said calmly. “Leave.”
Days later, she filed for divorce and child support. A week after, his mother pounded on her door.
“Gold-digging trash! Dragging him to court over *his* money? Drop the claimhe owes you *nothing*!”
“He owes his *children*,” Emily shot back. “If his mistress minds, *his* problem. Now get outor should I call the police?”
Cursing, the woman left.
Months passed. Nursery spots opened up one by one. When the youngest started, Emily went full-time.
“Hi.” James hovered by her desk at work. “Can we talk?”
“Busy,” she said, not looking up.
“Lunch, then?”
She finally met his gazetired, worn. Rumor was, his girlfriend had dumped him when she learned half his wages went to child support.
Emily felt nothing. “No, James. Were done.”
